Ghost Ship: Reprisal
by silver-ether
Summary: Jack Ferriman likes to get personal with some of his victims. Especially the pretty ones - and this one had it coming. -Oneshot with potential for development- Please R&R.


I've always wanted to write a Ghost Ship fanfic. I had a couple on the burner, but this one just started all by itself and had me too hooked to stop writing. I'm not sure whether to just leave this as a one-shot, as it was intended, or develop it into a complete story. I have to admit, I am tempted!

Please let me know what you think.

Author's Note: I've rated this a T for sexual references and mild violence. It is not explicit or overly graphic at this point. Please bare in mind, however, if I choose to make this a full story the scenes will likely be quite gory... Jack can't help it, he's very scary :D.

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_One Less To Worry About._

"Sometimes I think you're beautiful."

It was the last thing he'd said to her. Now his strong, pale fingers had wrapped themselves around the soft, fragile flesh of her exposed neck. He could feel her pulse fluttering beneath his touch, could see the flush of fear and adrenaline across her creamy skin. He pushed his body into her, to hold her so much closer to the wall, and brushed his lips across her own.

She trembled beneath him, her eyes wide and staring, all horror and disbelief. She was the woman that had dared to love him, just a fool like all those before her. Her form-fitting little black number made her body electric, and he sent his free hand trailing down the curve of her hip, resting it on her thigh where her body was warm and her flesh supple.

Maybe she hadn't heard him right. She didn't seem to register the words, her eyes locking onto his own. His were dark and dangerous, filled with mystery - something she had once found so alluring, now a clear truth that stole her breath and sent her heart pounding.

He pressed the kiss deeper, tasting the sweet cherry gloss she used, breathing in the rosy perfume she always wore. She didn't respond, too frightened to remember how to use any part of her. He didn't care; he could have just as much fun with her if she played dead. Just a prelude to the inevitable, anyway.

He smiled through the kiss, then pulled away just enough that he could focus on her eyes again. They were chocolate brown, open wide with pupils narrow and small. The fear on her face was exciting, if only for him.

His body was firm against her, immovable muscle sculpted over a slight frame. He was dressed as formally as she was, and despite her terror, she remembered her first thoughts when she'd seen him, an ironic echo of her naivety - he'd been the best-looking guy in the room. She'd lost all sense of self-restraint when he seemed to reciprocate her interest. Had she thought she could make it work? Three short months that had made her love every inch of him… though it was clear, now, that she had never had the full measure of him. Not at all.

"Jack." she breathed, the sound a shallow gasp between them. His eyes flickered over her face, an unfathomable expression settling onto his own. "Jack…" she tried again, unsure what she needed to say to him, unable to think clearly anymore. It wasn't the intoxication of too much alcohol, or the heady joy of private ardor… she was very sure he was going to hurt her, but she didn't have anything on hand that could save her. Words failed her, as if they could have helped the situation.

Jack Ferriman just smiled. She'd never said his name quite like that before. She'd whispered it many times, urging him between the sheets, delicately persuading him to fulfill her every desire… this time was something new. She had no questions on her tongue, no ideas in her mind to voice, but he _felt_ what she needed like a physical sense about her. She felt rigid beneath him, stiff and breakable.

"It'll only hurt a little." he promised her, and kissed her one last time.

Maybe she sensed the inevitable, her own impending doom rapidly descending. Whatever it was, she lost any resistance she might have been building, let go her growing fear, her rising terror. She melted into him, her arms pushing into his back to draw him closer as though to merge their bodies together. One hand wound into his hazel hair, and she ran her fingers through its length. He responded with mutual hunger, pressing her into the wall even harder, every line and edge of his torso pressing against her.

She tasted like strawberries and sunshine.

That was when he stopped it. Suddenly, a hand held her face with less than ardent force. Her eyes grew fearful once again, not expecting this reaction from him. His other hand leant into the wall, his body no longer holding her down but still effectively trapping her there.

"Sweet, sweet beauty." he said, his eyes sparkling with a secret, a special knowledge he held. She felt no allure, no necessity to know what raced through his mind… she was sure it would terrify her.

"I love you, Jack." she tried.

He sighed, a quiet sound that carried no heartfelt sorrow. Just a noise he could make, as the smile graced his lips once more. He released her from his grip, but traced an invisible line with a single finger down to her neck. His touch might once have sent rippling heat through her, now it inspired every hair on her body to rise in alarm.

_This was it_.

"I just need one thing." Jack said, softly. He leaned in a little closer, so his mouth touched the crest of her right ear. His voice was husky and quiet, yet it filled with a quick, sharp menace. "Tell Maureen I said hello." he pulled back instantly, the movement too fast. His eyes locked onto hers, and his were filled with something demonic and unnatural, a strength and power that brought with it a thousand horrific nightmares. His smile was a grin of the sadistic, a twisted promise of all the sins the world could bring to bear. "Your mother always was a bitch." he added.

She opened her mouth to speak, and he engulfed it one last time. The kiss held no passion, nor pleasure. It silenced her words, and then her scream. The hand at her neck curled round it once more, and now it burned, fierce and white hot. Agony ripped through her, but the louder she cried out, the more he smiled, trapping the sound in her throat.

She turned limp, and he stepped back to let her drop down to the floor. The fresh scar on her broken neck was mottled, an angry red-brown of dead tissue and congealed blood. It was a curious shape, a nautical mark that branded her to him for as long as time permitted, until he dragged her into a Hell beyond the reality she had just faced.

Jack laughed to himself, an insane snickering that would have sent chills up and down a mortal spine. The girl before him was lifeless and still, a cooling corpse that only faintly resembled the woman he despised.

No soul defied him. He had vowed to silence every living member of that bloodline.

Evangeline Epps was just one less to worry about.

_End._

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Hope you liked it! As I said, I am considering developing this - please let me know if you'd like to read more! I don't write just for reviews, but no one can pretend they're not just a little bit inspired by them! I do welcome critique also, of course. I love writing, so I always seek ways of improving my style.

So, please R&R and thank you for taking the time to read this!

-silver-ether-


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